She Was Never Mine
by MargaritaVille108
Summary: Viktor receives a letter from Hermione. As he replies he contemplates his relationship with her, what went wrong, and what was always standing in the way.


This is my second one-shot. I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors or for going off a bit off canon. I tried my best. I hope you like it. If you have the time please review. I'd really appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this one-shot. The credit belongs to Mrs. J.K. Rowling.

She Was Never Mine

_That's fantastic news to hear! You're such a talented seeker! My summer's been going splendidly. Growing up as a muggle I don't have much contact with the wizarding world until September. My parents have been talking about taking a trip to Paris, but since the summer days are dwindling quickly I doubt we'll make it this summer, maybe the next, or maybe they'll go when I'm in school. I hope your family is doing well. Does it seem strange not to be going back to school? I can't imagine after my seventh year when I don't have to go back. I know you've probably missed some of it for Quidditch, but I suppose it's somewhat different. It was great to hear from you again. I hope to hear again soon._

_-Hermione_

Viktor dipped his quill in the ink well on his desk. He let the deep blue ink drip a little before touching the quill to the paper. "Dear Hermione," he began. He glanced up to a picture of her on his desk. It had been taken at the end of the year feast. It was currently frameless so he propped it up against the team photo of the Bulgarian national team taken before the Quidditch cup. (If it had been taken after the photo the match wouldn't look as appealing.) He held up the picture trying to recollect every memory of that night. That night he invited Hermione to visit him during the summer, to which she smiled and thanked him. She never did come. It was never mentioned again and Viktor didn't want to ask again afraid of the answer. In truth, he didn't blame her for not wanting to come. _What would they do?_ All his life he had never been much of a talker. It had taken him so long to get enough courage to talk to her in the first place. He planned many trips to the library, where he was sure to find her, and played his words in his head, but he always managed to stay tables away only stealing glances when she was thoroughly invested in whichever book she was reading or studying from that day. Watching her from afar wasn't terrible either, except when crowds of his female fans would follow him pointing and giggling loudly, annoying Hermione enough to make her leave. Finally he got up enough courage to ask her to the Yule Ball. She of course looked stunning and it was marvelous to have her all to himself that night, but like many of their previous meetings, he didn't speak much. They mostly danced and stopped occasionally to get a drink when he would ask, "Are you enjoying yourself?" to which Hermione would reply, "Yes." Every time he received her letter he scolded himself for not being better with conversation. Hermione was so well spoken and intelligent. It must have been a terrible bore to read his letters. He always asked himself, "what if?" What if he had been more open for conversation? Would she be eating dinner with him that evening or watching one of his matches on his home pitch?

Although he liked to blame himself, Viktor knew, though his lack of speaking did have some sort of effect of his and Hermione's relationship, that it still wouldn't have gone anywhere. Truly, she was never really his. Someone else was always in the way. Hermione was one of those rare girls who put their looks on the backburner. Though Viktor found her very attractive, he knew Hermione did not believe so. She never saw how fantastic she was. It always seemed that she was blind to positive opinions of herself from others—even her closet friends. That's why she never saw what Viktor saw. The way _he_ looked at her and how jealous _he_ was at the ball. Viktor was not the deepest wizard in the world, but even he could tell that. From the very beginning he could see it, though he didn't want to believe it. He wasn't very egotistical, but he _was_ Viktor Krum. He was an international Quidditch star at age seventeen. He was at least somewhat attractive. He had hoards of girls following him every which way. Hermione obviously saw those things and liked them somewhat, but they weren't what she wanted or at least from what Viktor could tell.

Viktor was never one to start fights or be violent (except on the Quidditch pitch), but every time he saw him he wanted to throw him across the room—and it wouldn't be hard, he was such a lanky bloke. He was so stupid to not see what was in front of him. (Hermione's obliviousness didn't match her intelligence either.) Every time she looked at him, Viktor could see it. Every time she screamed at him, Viktor could see it. Even when she ignored him, Viktor could see it. What made Viktor laugh (well, not really laugh, but realize how fickle life can be) was that Viktor and he were so different—tall, dark, quiet—lanky, red-haired and somewhat loud.

Viktor signed his letter, "Love, Viktor." Even if Hermione didn't sign her letters with "love" Viktor always felt he should. He knew that he was slowly getting over her. She was the most amazing young witch he'd ever encountered, but he knew he'd move on. At least they were still friends. They had only known each other briefly. He didn't lose a long time love. From the start, she was never his.


End file.
